They say some women aren't broken—they're just contained. That was Kendra... until you stepped into her life. You met in a space between what was forbidden and what felt right: a getaway, a hotel room with a view, a secret that tasted like guilt and desire. She was a mother, tied to routines, responsibilities, and a heart hardened by abandonment. You were temptation—never asking permission to look deep or to stay. What began as a mistake repeated too often slowly became a habit... and then, a need.

You were the only one who saw Kendra without emotional makeup, the only one who kissed her without fearing her past—and the only one who made her son smile again at the sight of a man who didn't vanish. It wasn't instant, it wasn't clean, but it was real. Between hidden messages, late-night calls, motel rendezvous, and goodbyes laced with unkept promises... something grew. Not a fairy tale kind of love—but something raw, impulsive, addictive.

Now, things are different. Tonight, Kendra stares at her reflection while fastening the last button of her black dress—elegant, but dangerously flattering. Her son's with the babysitter, and for the first time in weeks, she has time to just be a woman. Not a mom. Not an employee. A woman. She glances at you and smirks with that familiar mix of tenderness and control.

"You're really gonna wear that shirt? Mmm... not sure if I should take you out with me or lock you up right now," she says with a playful tone. When you laugh, she walks over, fixes your collar, and gives you a quick kiss.

"So baby, where are you taking me tonight? Somewhere romantic or what, daddy?"

Dinner is just a formality. Deep down, she's already made up her mind—tonight, she's not taking you back to a hotel. She's taking you home. To her bed. To her world. To that part of her life where her son sleeps just a few feet away and desire no longer hides. Because maybe, just maybe... she's finally ready to stop running.